Raindrops
by Heavenly Pearl
Summary: When her parents die in a tragic plane crash, Kino Makoto must find the strength to carry on, alone.


Raindrops

I never thought I would miss my parents so much, so soon. Papa's car had barely pulled out of the driveway to start on its way to the airport, and already I wanted them to come back home. As it was, it was taking all my willpower to stay on the porch and not run after them like a baby, begging Mama and Papa not to leave, but that would be a cowardly thing to do, and if there was one thing I was not, it was a coward. So, instead, I forced a smile on my face and waved goodbye, watching the car until the very last moment when it turned at the intersection and finally disappeared into the morning traffic.

I didn't know why saying goodbye was proving to be so hard. I supposed I was suffering from a little bit of separation anxiety. Sunday was my parents' fifteenth wedding anniversary, and as a special surprise, Papa had planned a romantic second honeymoon to Paris. They would be gone for the entire weekend, and it was the longest we had ever been apart. Though I assured them before they left I would be perfectly fine on my own, now that they were gone, I wasn't so sure.

Walking back inside, I found our modest home eerily empty and quiet without the sound of Papa watching a sumo wrestling match on the television set in the family room like he normally did on Saturday mornings or Mama humming a pretty little tune as she baked her world famous chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen while I helped. All I heard was silence.

I turned the radio on to my favorite station and put the volume up full blast, trying to block out the unpleasant sound of nothingness. The newest single from one of my favorite idols, Sakamoto Ma'aya, blared through the speakers, filling the house with some much needed noise. "Now, that's better, Makoto," I said aloud, not caring one single bit if I sounded as if I belonged in the nuthouse. Who else would I talk to around here, anyway?

Mama did say if I got lonely, I could invite a couple of my friends over to spend the night, but I doubted I would. I had very few close friends. Most of the kids at my school were either afraid of me because of my height or jealous of my skills in the martial arts, so I didn't make friends easily. And of the friends I did have, most of them happened to be male. Somehow, I didn't think that was what Mama had in mind when she said I could have a sleepover. There was also my best friend Tomoko who lived right down the street, but I already knew she wouldn't be able to come over because her family had gone out of town to visit her sick grandfather.

So, it appeared I would be on my own for the entire weekend.

I tried to convince myself I didn't mind. After all, I was the one who told my parents that at twelve years old, I would be perfectly capable of taking care of myself and the house for a couple of days when previous plans to stay with Tomoko and her family fell through because of her grandfather's illness. However, the truth was that I was scared.

Thinking about that, I laughed. Ha! Imagine that. Me, Kino Makoto, scared of a little loneliness. Talk about irony. At school, my very name inspired fear in the hearts of all who heard it. True, I didn't exactly understand why I had such a fearsome reputation, but the very idea a so-called "tough cookie" like me was scared of something so incredibly stupid amused me.

Too bad my laughter didn't calm my fears. In fact, it only served to make the emptiness in the house even more obvious than it already was. I turned the volume dial on the radio up a few more notches and went to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich, hoping once I had something in my stomach, the butterflies would disappear.

It turned out I wasn't very hungry. I took a couple of small bites of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and threw the rest away in the trash, deciding the best way to deal with my uneasiness was to do a little light housecleaning. Mama usually kept the house spotless, but I figured it couldn't hurt to clean it again.

I grabbed the duster and the vacuum cleaner from the closet and began cleaning the living room, only vaguely noticing the bright blue sky from earlier had disappeared behind a curtain of ominous storm clouds when I looked out the window. The noise from both the vacuum cleaner and the radio blocked out the soft rumbles of thunder in the distance, so I remained blissfully unaware of the coming storm. Not that I would have heard it anyway. Like my mother, I had a tendency to block out any distractions whenever I cleaned and focus just on the task at hand, which made it the perfect activity to keep my mind off how much I missed my parents.

And it did work until the electricity suddenly flickered off, shrouding the living room in darkness and causing the radio and vacuum to go mute. Without my distractions, I became very well aware of the fact a storm was indeed raging outside. Thunder boomed, lightning crashed, and the wind howled as I blindly stumbled over the hose to the vacuum cleaner on my way to the kitchen, hoping we had some candles.

After a few minutes of rummaging through the drawers, I finally found a pack of matches and a couple of unused candles, along with some D batteries. I lit one of the candles and walked back to the living room to see if the batteries would work in my radio. The house was becoming far too quiet again, if one ignored the increasingly loud booms of thunder, and I longed for the sound of someone else's voice to keep me company. Luckily, the batteries worked.

It took me a few minutes of fiddling with the antenna before I managed to find a station that came in reasonably clear. Every once in a while, I would hear some static, but I didn't mind. It was just a news station, talking mostly about the bad weather and how it was affecting traffic in downtown Tokyo. Nothing that particularly interested me. I only half-listened to the reports, looking out the window as I wondered whether or not my parents' flight had been delayed or canceled because of the storm.

As much as I knew how much they wanted to go to Paris, I wished the flight had been canceled. I wasn't kidding myself anymore. I wanted them home. I never should have told Mama and Papa I could handle this.

I was only a child. A tall and well-developed child, but a child nonetheless. What were they thinking? What was_ I_ thinking? I wasn't ready. If only I hadn't been in such a hurry to prove I was grown-up…

I shook my head, turning my attention back to the radio to try keep my mind off how much I missed my parents. The reception was worsening, but I still could hear snippets of a man's report over the static. He was talking about some kind of accident. Feeling my stomach flip-flop, I took a seat on the couch, my heart pounding against my chest as I listened.

"…reports of…crash…Tokyo Air Flight #1242...traveling to Paris, France…all 134 passengers…crew members…to be dead…investigated by authorities…suspected to be caused…storm…"

I stopped listening at that point, turning off the radio as I sat in stunned silence. Outside, the storm continued to rage, but the chaos was nothing compared to the ache and confusion I felt in my own heart.

Tokyo Air Flight #1242 to Paris.

My parents' plane.

They were gone. And they were never coming back home.

* * *

For the first few days after the crash, I felt as if I was walking blindly in a dense fog, a lost little girl with no direction. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even speak without wanting to scream at the top of my lungs the injustice I felt toward Heaven for taking my parents away from me during the time I needed them the most. All I wanted to do was curl up in a tiny ball and pretend it never happened.

How could I say goodbye to Mama and Papa? I dreaded attending the funeral, knowing that once their bodies were buried, they would really and truly be gone. I didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. Not to them. Not to me.

* * *

The day of the funeral was cold and downcast, yet another continuation of the bad weather which had plagued Tokyo for the last few days. I was beginning to forget what a good day even looked like anymore. It seemed as if the sun would never again come out of its hiding place behind the clouds, gracing us with its beauty and light. Instead, all around me, I saw nothing but darkness, a dismal world of black and gray.

The darkness held its own beauty, in a way, I suppose. A cold, unfeeling beauty, but beautiful just the same in its misery. It was actually rather comforting, seeing the world look as miserable as I felt. Burying my parents on a beautiful day would almost be too cruel.

Glancing around at the small group of mourners gathered around the gravesite, I sighed, pulling my black jacket closer around my body to keep out the bitter cold. There wasn't a very big crowd, just me, the minister, Tomoko and her family, my mother's brother, his wife, and their five children, and a few of my parents' close friends, but I knew Mama and Papa would have been pleased. My uncle had done a nice job arranging the funeral. Simple, but beautiful, and surrounded by the people who loved them, just like my parents would have wanted.

The minister kept the graveside ceremony thankfully short, probably wanting to get out of the cold as much as the rest of us did, and about ten minutes later, the two matching coffins were lowered into the ground where they would stay side by side for all eternity. Though it was hard, I managed not to cry, wanting to stay strong for Mama and Papa. I said a few words at the minister's urging -- what they were, I don't remember -- and tossed a red rose, my mother's favorite, into each of their graves, whispering "Goodbye."

After that, most of the mourners left for the small luncheon being held at my uncle's house nearby. I stayed behind, however, reluctant to leave.

I still couldn't believe Mama and Papa were gone. In my mind, I knew they were dead, but my heart refused to acknowledge the truth. There was a part of me, a small part, that still insisted this was all a nightmare and that tomorrow morning I would wake up to the smell of Mama making pancakes in the kitchen as if nothing had changed.

But I knew that would never happen. I was living the nightmare.

Kneeling down on the grass between their graves, I stared at the two identical headstones and read the kanji aloud, thinking how permanent my parents' names looked, carved into the smooth stone. So final and inerasable. On the left was my father's marker, engraved with the words _Kino Samuru - Born March 3, 1956 - Died January 14, 1990._ On the right was my mother's, similarly engraved with _Kino Nyoko - Born November 21, 1958 - Died January 14, 1990. _Both bore the epithet _Together in Life and Death_ above their names.

"Together in life and death," I repeated, my voice cracking as I traced the kanji on my mother's headstone with my finger. "Even now, you two are still together. I guess I should be happy for you, then, huh?"

I smiled, but I wasn't fooling anybody, not even myself. Blinking back my tears, I rested my head on the smooth stone of the marker and bit down hard on my bottom lip, determined not to cry. I needed to be strong now. Mama and Papa wouldn't want me to be sad. It was time to be grown-up, not a child.

My parents' deaths were ironic in a way, I suppose. All my life, I couldn't wait to be an adult. Grown-ups seemed to have all the fun. They didn't have to go to school or do homework or any of the other stuff kids hated to do. They were their own bosses, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It was the kind of life I dreamed of late at night when I imagined what it would be like to finally be an adult.

Romance. Excitement. Independence.

I wanted them all.

Now, there was nothing I wouldn't give to be a child again. I wanted my innocence back. I wanted to play tea party with my stuffed animals and help Mama bake cookies in the kitchen. I wanted to believe in Three O'Clock Fairies, Santa Claus, and all those childhood myths I used to love. I wanted to imagine a world in which there was no more pain and darkness, only love and sunshine and happiness. Most of all, I wanted my Mama and Papa back.

But it didn't matter what I wanted, did it?

It began to rain again, but I barely noticed. The cold drops of water soaked my clothes and hair as I continued to sit on the muddy earth between their graves. I didn't really care if I ruined my new black dress for I had no plans to ever wear it again anyway. Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrapped arms around my legs and rocked myself back and forth in comfort.

"Why did you have to leave me?" I whispered. "Why? I needed you, Mama and Papa. Why did you have to go?"

Salty tears soon coated my lips. I didn't know when I had started crying, but this time I didn't try to hold them back. I was tired of trying to be brave; I just wasn't that strong.

And so I joined the heavens in their weeping, taking comfort in the soft pelting of raindrops on the ground and the rumbles of coming thunder in the distance.

* * *

"Mako-chan?" a soft voice said about ten minutes later. "Are you okay?"

Embarrassed at being caught in such a state, I ran the sleeve of my jacket across my watery eyes before I finally forced myself to glance up at the owner of the voice. It belonged to a rather petite girl around my age with kind blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. She was standing over me, holding an umbrella over my head and ignoring the fact the rain now soaked her to the bone.

"Go away, Tomoko-chan," I ordered in what I hoped sounded like a strong voice. "I just want to be alone for a while."

The girl, my best, and really only, friend in the entire world, ignored my request, stooping down so we were almost eye to eye. "Your aunt and uncle were worried about you when the storm began and you hadn't come back yet," Tomoko said. "You know you can't stay out here in the rain, Mako-chan. You'll catch a cold, or maybe something even worse, like pneumonia."

"I don't care."

Tomoko gave me a sad smile, brushing back a strand of long hair which had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ears. "You don't really mean that, do you? The Mako-chan I know hates being sick. Illness is a sign of weakness, and you're one of the strongest people I know."

I let out a hollow laugh at Tomoko's words. Strong? I wasn't strong at all. I was as weak and as helpless as a newborn baby. "Not anymore, I'm not," I replied.

"That's not true." Tomoko took a seat right beside me on the ground so we could both share her umbrella and reached for my hand. "It's okay to be sad that your parents died, you know. It was a horrible thing to have happened to somebody like you, especially when you're still so young. You don't have to be ashamed. So keep crying, Mako-chan. I won't think you're weak at all."

She reached into the pocket of her soiled dress and pulled out a pink handkerchief, which she held out toward me without saying a word. I hesitated for a moment before I finally took the offered handkerchief from her hands. A wayward tear rolled down my cheek at her kindness.

"Thank you, Tomoko-chan," I whispered, my voice cracking slightly. She always did know me best. Sometimes it even seemed she knew me better than I knew myself. "Thanks for understanding."

Tomoko gave me another melancholic smile. "It'll be okay. You'll get through this. I know you will. But for now, just cry."

As my tears began anew, she pulled me into a comforting embrace, letting me cry on her shoulder. I was grateful for the support. Even though I hated to admit it, I needed her.

We stayed like that for a while, our black clothes soiling as we sat in the mud, until Tomoko finally looked down at her watch and realized almost an hour had passed since she came looking for me. Not wanting to worry my aunt and uncle any longer, we decided to head back. The walk back to the house was mostly silent until the small cottage where my uncle and his family lived came into view.

"Mako-chan, what do you plan to do, now that the funeral's over?" Tomoko asked softly. "Will you stay with your aunt and uncle?"

I shrugged. To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. Uncle Tetsuya and Aunt Yui said I could stay with them as long as I liked, but I knew I couldn't take advantage of their generosity for much longer. They had five kids of their own, ranging in age from the colicky baby to my hyperactive ten-year-old cousin. After spending the past few days living with them, I knew I couldn't stay. The last thing they needed around their small, modest house was another kid to take care of. "I don't really know what I'm going to do," I answered, pointlessly dodging a large puddle in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Well, why don't you come stay at my house?" Tomoko suggested, her eyes lighting up. "Of course I'll have to ask my parents first, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind. They already love you as if you were their own daughter. It'll be fun, like a forever slumber party. We can do each other's hair before school, work on our homework together every night, talk about our sempai…"

At the mention of our mutual crush on the most handsome boy in the seventh grade, I giggled for the first time in what seemed like forever. Living at Tomoko's house did seem like fun. But…

I slowly came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and glanced up at the stormy sky, raindrops running down my tear-streaked face. Strange as it may sound, I felt as if the thunder was trying to tell me something. I heard a voice, a familiar voice, call out to me, though I couldn't quite make out the words.

Tomoko, who had continued walking ahead, turned around when she noticed my absence by her side, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Mako-chan?"

I shook my head, coming to a decision. "Thanks for the offer, Tomoko-chan, but I can't stay with you and your family."

"Why not? It wouldn't be a problem."

There was a slight pause before I answered her question, a small smile on my face. I finally understood what the thunder was telling me. "Because I want to be strong," I answered.

"Strong?"

I nodded. Though I knew it would be difficult, I wanted to prove to myself and to my parents I could make it on my own. After all, what didn't kill me could only make me stronger, right? That used to be one of Papa's favorite sayings.

And if I listened close enough, I could hear the echo of his deep bass voice in the thunder saying those words to me. His voice was the one calling out to me.

I smiled through my tears.

I would survive this. For them, I would be strong.

DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon is the property of Takeuchi Naoko.


End file.
